Through Green Eyes
by Nathaneal Jacobs
Summary: Is there something so romantic about rainy days that it goes much farther? GeoffxKate


The farris was probably the most skilled blacksmith on the square. She was the only one that seemed to really know what she was doing. And through the eyes of an artist, she was a blaze of passion among candle flames. Had Geoffrey Chaucer been a painter rather than a writer his paints would never compare to the fire he saw in her.

'So lucky I am,' he thought one night, as he watched her in the forge, 'to be gifted with a writer's mind. Who else could see her in this light? I'll definitely have to write something about her.' He was unseen for the most part as she sat in front of the fire, waiting for it to die down.

Geoff waited there for a little while. Then the little turned to a long while of just watching her in the growing darkness. When the fire was finally completely out he expected her to rise and exit the forge. The tick-tock and count down of minutes passed through his mind and there was no movement in the darkness where the chair with Kate was once visible. He stepped out from his little "hiding place" and found his way quietly in the dark to her chair. She was asleep.

This was a very strange thing to see. He knew that it was the blacksmith way to make sure the fire goes out before leaving the forge, but there sat a blacksmith long after the flames fell. He contemplated whether or not to rouse her. Putting the danger part aside, for he knew Kate would be able to at least escape such danger, he wondered if it was healthy. This night was very cold and threatened rain.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark and the light from the torches outside that seeped through the cracks in the walls, he saw her face looked so innocent and sweet. So very different from her awake face, and yet still exactly the same. He gently poked and prodded her shoulder. She didn't move, stir or flutter an eyelid. He shook her shoulder solidly, but still gently. He could tell she woke that time because of the pain he felt in his nose.

"Kate," he said, "It's me, Geoff." He made sure that she understood to prevent being punched again. She hits a hell of a lot harder than Wat. "You were asleep."

Kate stopped reaching for her hammer when she recognized his voice. "Oh, I'm sorry Geoff," she apologized, "I guess I did it again. Is your nose okay?" She kneeled down in front of him and tried to see in the lack of light.

"I think I might survive," he muttered. He rubbed the sore area of his face. "I'm just glad it's not bleeding. If I may comment your fist makes me feel like I was just hit in the face with a ten-pound rock." He stood awkwardly and dusted himself off.

It was then that he looked at her, seeing that she had changed. Her face was different than when she had been asleep just moments before. Yet, and I do repeat myself, still exactly the same. Her green eyes, narrow chin, and hair that fell into her face. He found himself resisting the urge to touch her hair, her face, her lips. Should he resist? Is it so wrong to smooth the hair out of the face of a friend? No, not wrong, just probably unwelcome. He was staring at her in silence contemplation for these few moments.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked.

He shook his head as if to clear his mind. "I…" he began, "You look so different in such dim light. It's really kind of a shame." He turned and started to walk away before she could question him further. He just remembered that he left his writing supplies outside of her forge and that it was about to rain.

"Wait," she said getting a good grip on his wrist, "What do you mean? Why were you in here in the first place?"

He shrugged and turned around. "Can you please let me go?" he asked, "before it rains?"

She released him and watched as he left to go rescue what was most dear to him. As strange an encounter as this was, she pushed it to the back of her head. She gathered her few knick-knacks, including her hammer, chisel, etc. and heard the rain begin to patter on the roof. Hopefully Chaucer got in before it started. She kind of wished he had stayed so that she wouldn't have to go out in the rain by herself. All rain ever did was remind her of her husband and the days they would go out together just to feel the rain fall. Reluctantly, she set out through the growing downpour.

She was certain that Chaucer had been there for a reason. She knew that he had been there for a long time, too. Still, no matter how much this may have involved her or her forge, it might not really be her business. Then again, if it was something he was having a problem with she could help him and get him to stop spying on her. It made her feel strange to know that there was some one there. Now, all she knew was 1. it was just Geoff and 2. he wasn't just drunk. She pushed her hair behind her back and hugged her shoulders. I was cold for this time of the year.

"I'm sorry," she heard Chaucer calling her, "It's not very polite to let a lady walk through the rain." He was beside her fairly quickly, being that she didn't see him approach—probably a result of the rain. Then she felt a warm fur being wrapped around her.

She looked over to Geoff to see that he had sacrificed his long coat for her. "Thank you," she muttered, not caring whether he heard or not.

He put his arm around her shoulders and directed her in her direction. He walked at a fast pace that Kate could barely keep up with without running. She hid her face so it wouldn't get splashed with rain, and silently thanked Geoff once again for allowing her to be free of her eyes. Still, it was rather awkward to be running through the rain under his arm. When they came to a stop outside the stables, she quickly moved away from him and under the eave.

"Will this do?" he asked, "I'm sorry, but I don't know where else you could need to go." He was panting, and probably warm from moving so fast. He seemed apologetic for having to leave her in a stable.

"You know," Kate began, "whether you mean it or not, you've been apologizing quite a bit more than usual tonight." She slowly took off his coat and handed it back to him, trying not to shiver as the cold bit her. She was about to go inside when she looked at him once again, this time he was walking away and all she saw was to outline of his tall, lanky form through the rain. "Geoff," she called, "Where are you going?"

"To find the nearest place to eat and wait until the rain stops," he said turning. He stood with his shoulders hunched and his head down. He hadn't yet put his coat on, maybe so it wouldn't get wet on the inside.

She walked forward a little to try and see him better. "You're welcome to wait here with me," she said quickly, "It gets rather warm at night, even during rain." She fidgeted with her chisel in one hand.

He seemed to think about the offer for a short while. Then he shrugged and nodded. "Thank you," he said when he was under the eave again.

She built up a fire in a small pit, just big enough to keep the room warm but not endanger the horses. She found a thick blanket for Geoff and some of her clothes in a chest that she kept hidden in the floor. She was never trusty that a stable was a safe place to leave your things. So they sat round the fire, Kate in dry clothes, Geoff wrapped in the blanket with his clothes drying off to the side.

They sat in silence for the most part. Geoff was mapping out the current string of events in his head trying to make perfect sense of how he had gotten there. Kate was busy combing her fingers through her messy hair, trying to tame it so it would dry faster. Both of them kept their thoughts to themselves and neither of them looked at the other. It was one of those awkward silences that Geoff couldn't stand, but Kate thought was better than speaking at the moment.

"What are you thinking about?" Chaucer asked finally, just to hear sound besides rain falling on the roof.

She looked up at him startled, as if she had been awoken from a trance. "Everything," she said, "then at the same time, nothing. Things that should be but aren't and things that shouldn't be but are." She looked back at the fire and a small smile fell across her features. "I guess I'm thinking of what it would be like to…" She stopped, frowned and glanced up at him. "Never mind, it's not your business."

He shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. "Of course, it's never any of my business," he said in mock offense, "I'm just the silly writer."

"No," she said, "You're not just a silly writer. You're an idiot." She smiled again.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "I resemble that remark." He felt better about lightening the mood a little, glad he had room to laugh.

He was glad to hear her laugh. She looked up at him. "You do," she stated, "but not all the time. Some times you can act like the full-grown man you are. Why do you choose to act like a child?"

His hand went out from under the blanket and over the fire for a moment then returned. "I always had more fun in life as a child," he said, "There was never those responsibilities of an adult to worry about. Then I learned how to read and write and my life as a child was over." He said this half with pride and half with pain.

She made a nod of understanding. It was true that there is that period in life where childhood is forfeit. She had been ready for it, though. She didn't mourn for her past childhood. "I thought you loved writing," she said.

"Oh don't get me wrong," he said, "There are curses that are blessings." He smiled and found himself staring at her again. "For instance, your husband died, but you got to take his place and be a blacksmith. That's got to be a good thing." He pulled the blanket tighter and shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes, that's true," she agreed. She stood then and went over to see if his clothes were dry. She noticed the rain had stopped, but no the clothes were not yet dry. "So what have you been thinking about?" she asked as she returned to her seat.

"Eyes," he said, simply, "it's the first thing I look at on a person. Really, only because through a person's eyes you can see what lies in their soul. Or so they say." He laughed quietly. He had seen quite a bit of things in people's eyes, but that was a silly way to put it.

"And what do you see in my eyes, hmm?" she asked, "You were staring at them before, in the forge."

He had been caught with no way out this time. He hadn't his supplies outside to save him, but what from? "Well," he said, "your eyes make me feel lost."

"Is that all, man of a thousand words?" she taunted. It was playful, and he appreciated it, but he had something else to say to her.

"Kate, how would you react if I told you," he said quietly, pausing then, "…if I told you that in your eyes I see your heart and in it's dungeons lies mine." He noted her silence, but he didn't look at her face. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."

"No," she said. She moved closer to him. "If I understand your meaning, it was not stupid at all."

He then looked up at her when he felt her brush his blanket. "If I may comment," he muttered, "you make feel like kissing you."

"If _I _may comment," she said, "you make me feel the same." She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him.

The next day, when Chaucer awoke, he was curious. He wanted to know whether the night before…with Kate…had been a dream. He dressed that morning that hurried to the forge, pulling his coat on last. It was still a little damp on the inside. He heard her working before he entered. He hoped he wouldn't be intruding. Why was he really there? He just wanted to see her, look at her as she worked.

"Kate," he said as he entered, "You're here, right?" He asked just to ask, to make himself known.

"Yeah I'm here," she replied, "Is that you, Geoff?" She dunked the horseshoe she was working on in a bucket of water. She hoped it was Geoff just because she wanted to see him.

Geoff saw her and she saw him. "Yeah, it's me," he said rather superfluously. "I just wanted to ask you something. Last night, was it you and me in the stables while it rained?"

She smiled and laughed quietly as if she heard a joke no one else did. "Yes," she said. I assure you, the uptight reader, that it was merely kisses that went on the night before. Nothing beyond that. Geoff's smile widened beyond any extreme. "Is there anything else you want, Master Chaucer?" she inquired.

"Do I cross the line to say you?" he asked, taking a step toward her.

"No," she said, "but if I give you that, I want something in return." She took two steps to him and closed the distance between them. She reached up and kissed his cheek. "I want you." She kissed his lips briefly.

"Well you can have me," he said, wrapping his arms around her, "I'm yours."

I know what you'll think next. It's just like the movies, they never get far. Hell, I could just take this part out and lie, but that's now what I do. So, truthfully, Will chose this time to come calling. Geoff and Kate let go of each other.

"Perhaps it's best that they find out on their own?" Kate insisted.

"Yes, that is understandable," Geoff sighed. "I think it's breakfast."

Will was there when he said that. "Kate," he said, "Oh, hello Geoff. Kate I came to tell you it's time for breakfast." What wonderful guessing skills. "And you just saved me more looking, Geoff."

Geoff and Kate sat by each other at the table at dinner that night, listening to the argument between Wat and Will about whether or not Christiana loved Roland. Roland just sat with his head rested on his elbow. Geoff felt a hand on his leg and looked at Kate. She just glanced at him and smiled. It was then that he realized just how much he wanted her, and yet, he couldn't have her while the guys were around.

Will finally gave up on trying to educate Wat on how to read the signs of a woman and turned to Geoff. "Geoff, what do you think?"

Geoff looked up at him. "I…" he stuttered, "What?'

Wat broke in. "I want to know how you can tell that Christiana is in love with Roland," he said, well, more like whined.

"Oh, for the love of God," Geoff said, "leave the girl alone. If you really want to know if some one's in love look at their eyes." He felt Kate's hand move up his leg a bit. He found himself thinking of strange things, not concentrating on Will or Wat. "If you'll excuse me," he said suddenly standing. He looked at Kate before leaving. She smiled at him.

A few minutes later, Kate said that she forgot something in the forge and left. She walked around to the back of the tavern in curiosity. It was there she that found Geoff. He was leaning against the wall of the tavern. He looked up at her, but did not move.

"That's a horrid thing to do," he said, "You don't want us publicized, yet you tempt me so far." He had jesting smile on his face.

She raised her eyebrows. "I just wanted to see how you would react," she said. "You reacted well." She stood next to him and leaned against the wall.

"So is that what I am?" he asked playfully, turning toward her, "your guinea pig?" He leaned against her and kissed her neck. "If I am, I can only hope I'm the only one for you."

"You talk too much," Kate said and kissed him tenderly on the lips. She pulled him close and kissed him over and over again, through which he was silent. "What are you thinking?"

He hesitated and smiled. "If I may comment," he said, "your kisses make me feel like making love to you." His arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her against him off of her feet.

"If _I_ may comment," she said, glad to have the illusion of being his height, "your eyes make me feel the same."

They spent the night together in a room in the tavern. They were happy enough not to be interrupted. They were happy enough to be together. And I have here their thoughts:

Geoff: 'I'm happy to be yours, my beautiful blacksmith.'

Kate: 'I'm happy to have you, my witty writer.'


End file.
